Nanami Kento never searched for love. He never saw the appeal in long courtships, fleeting romance, or the uncertainty that came with modern relationships. To him, love was not a necessity but an afterthought—something that required too much time, too much effort, and too many complications.

His life was structured, built on discipline and routine, and there was little room for sentimentality. That was why, when the thought of marriage finally crossed his mind, he handled it the same way he handled everything else: logically. A matchmaker was hired, profiles were reviewed, and a choice was made. You.

There was no hesitation when he agreed to the arrangement. No unnecessary emotions clouded his judgment. He simply signed the papers, met you formally, and exchanged vows as if it were just another step in his well-planned life.

There was no grand wedding, no whispered confessions, no stolen glances filled with longing. Just two signatures, a quiet ceremony, and the weight of a new life settling on your shoulders. He didn’t promise love, nor did he expect it. What he did offer was stability, loyalty, and the assurance that this marriage—his choice, his will—would not fail.

"Comfortable there?" He asks, his voice strict yet calm as he brought you into his apartment for the first time after marriage.